


13. Gloria (you don't have to answer)

by china_shop



Category: due South
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag Queen, Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fraser, you can't go undercover as a woman going undercover!" said Ray, sounding exasperated. "It's crazy and that's the worst wig I've ever seen!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	13. Gloria (you don't have to answer)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mergatrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mergatrude/gifts).



> Many thanks to Sageness for beta.

**Part I: In a pinch**

Ray's eyes widened when he figured it out. "Benny!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm coming to your aid, Ray," said Fraser calmly. He adjusted his skirt and then brushed a few strands of synthetic hair from his face. The woman at the salon had looked askance, but Fraser had always wanted to be a redhead. "You need a teacher who's a woman to go undercover at St. Fortunata's, and I am—"

"Neither a teacher nor a woman," finished Ray. He caught Fraser's wrist and dragged him down the hall to the supply closet as fast as Fraser's heels could carry him.

"Gently now," murmured Fraser, but when the door closed and the light snapped on, it was clear Ray was in no mood for humor. There was panic in the lines around his eyes and the tightness of his jaw.

"What are you thinking?" he demanded. "Are you trying to out me?"

"I'm a Mountie, Ray," Fraser reminded him. "No one will think anything of it."

"Right. My partner's in drag and I'm okay with it—that's not going to raise any eyebrows? I'm not going to have to answer to Ma and Frannie on this?"

Fraser took him by the shoulders. "Ray, do I look like any drag queen you've ever seen?"

Ray's eyes slid down Fraser's chest. "You look ridiculous."

Fraser stepped back, dropping his hands. "Well, if you're going to be rude—"

"Fraser, you can't go undercover as a woman going undercover!" said Ray, sounding exasperated. "It's crazy and that's the worst wig I've ever seen!"

"What about Dee's rainbow Shirley Temple?" countered Fraser, and managed to surprise a laugh out of Ray.

"Yours is up there." But he looked somewhat better. "Are you serious about this?"

"I never joke when a child's life is in danger." Fraser advanced cautiously, but didn't reach out. "It'll be all right, don't you see? No one will suspect a thing unless we act as if they should. If anything, this will cement our reputations as having nothing to hide."

Ray looked away, perhaps thinking this over, or perhaps consulting with Gloria, who was both a part of him and separate, and who had her own brand of earthy self-preservation. "If it goes wrong—"

"It won't," said Fraser to both of them. "Trust me."

"I do trust you," said Ray, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. "That's what scares me."

Fraser gave in to temptation and touched Ray's cheek. The plain nail polish he'd chosen for the assignment was a stark reminder of the difference between his own getup and Gloria's exotic costumes.

Ray caught his hand and held it. For a second, Fraser even thought he might kiss it, and found himself oddly moved by the prospect. But instead Ray simply brushed his thumb across the palm. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Ray shook his head. "I mean, what choice have I got? We have to find Celine, right?"

"Right," said Fraser, and followed him out of the closet.

They'd barely gone two feet when they saw Huey and his temporary new partner, William Morris, heading down the hall toward them.

"Hey, baby," said Morris, eyeing Fraser with a leer. As they passed he said to Huey, with no apparent attempt to lower his voice, "Did you see those gazongas?"

Fraser was too disgusted to be embarrassed. "I beg your pardon?" But Morris didn't seem to hear him.

"Hey!" Ray glared, his hands balled into fists at his side. "Is that any way to talk about a lady? You need someone to teach you some manners, Morris?"

Morris just smirked.

"Back off, Vecchio," said Huey, dragging Morris away. "Sorry, ma'am."

Ray growled another warning and Fraser nodded a silent acknowledgment to Huey. Still bristling with fury, Ray watched them go.

Fraser touched his arm. "Thanks, Ray."

"Don't talk to me!" Ray was scowling at the squadroom doors, now swung shut. He took a breath and drew himself up to his full height, then rested his hand on the small of Fraser's back and guided him toward the exit. "Come on, let's go see if Annie's desperate enough to go along with this charade."

Ray's hand was warm and distracting, and Fraser swung his hips a little. It might not be Pink Ladies' Club style drag, but it still provided a number of interesting insights. He looked forward to discussing his experiences with Gloria.

 

 

 **Part II: Ordinary Guy Boyfriends (4 years later)**

Kowalski and Benny both came to the show—something which didn't happen as often as Gloria might like—and this time Kowalski actually looked like he was enjoying himself. He leaned on the bar next to Fraser and laughed, surrounded by mustached guys five or ten years older than him, all wearing dark suits and varying qualities of tie (the ones with the nice ties were the kind of guys Gloria used to date before Fraser) and kids fifteen years younger than him in tight shirts and jewelry, with hair that was a lot like Kowalski's, now Gloria came to think of it. The seed of an idea sprouted in her mind, but before she could examine it, Dee announced her set.

Gloria stopped peering at her boyfriends through the hole in the backstage curtains and remembered she was (practically) a professional. The music blared, making her heart pound. She took the mike from Caramel, stalked onstage and let her shimmering halter-neck dress fall aside where it was slit all the way to the top of her thigh.

The lights were hot, and Gloria was alive.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, Fraser and Gloria took Kowalski to their favorite diner, just down the road from the Club. It wasn't anything fancy—once upon a time, Gloria might have thought it was beneath her—but it was tradition, made special by a thousand nights holding hands and talking while their coffee grew cold.

Kowalski was buzzed on overpriced drinks from the Club, and he looked around the diner and then grinned at Gloria. "This is more a me-place than a you-place, I'd've thought."

"It's a Fraser-and-me place," said Gloria loftily, and then winked at him to make up for it. "Anyway, I have an announcement to make."

Fraser stopped perusing the large array of framed black-and-white glamour photos on the wall and gave her his full attention. "An announcement?"

Gloria put her coffee cup down with both hands. "It's my birthday next week."

Fraser blinked and then nodded, his acceptance automatic. She could always rely on him.

Of course, Kowalski wasn't so easy. "It's your birthday in May," he said, frowning.

"That's Ray's birthday," said Fraser, coming to the rescue, though Gloria didn't need him to. "There's no reason I can think of that Gloria and Ray should have the same birthday."

"Maybe because they share the same body?" muttered Kowalski, but there was no ill-humor in it, just a lack of understanding. Gloria could forgive him that. Kowalski was taking time to acclimatize to her world, especially after spending a year undercover as a professional skuzzball. She was just grateful he was still willing to try.

"Ray and I weren't born at the same time," Gloria explained. "He's been around decades longer than me, and we have different ways of celebrating." She examined her nails. "It's not a zero-sum game, Kowalski. It's not like I'm cheating anyone else out of their birthday."

Kowalski took a mouthful of apple pie and shrugged.

Fraser sat back in his seat, apparently relieved he didn't have to play referee like he sometimes did. "So, Gloria, what do you want for your birthday?"

Gloria shot him a wicked look and said, "I want to dress up Kowalski."

The legs of Kowalski's chair scraped against the linoleum. She didn't have to look to know there was panic on his face.

"Uh, no offence or anything," he said quickly, "but I don't have a feminine side to explore. I don't even have a feminine corner."

Gloria turned to him and couldn't hold back a grin. It was plain as day that Kowalski wanted to wear drag about as much as he wanted to wax off all his body hair, but it was also obvious that he'd do it if Gloria insisted. He'd hate it, but he'd do it. "Would you relax? I'm not talking like this—not for you! You're too pretty."

His eyes narrowed.

"I just want to dress you up, okay? Nothing you can't handle. Just something festive," she said, resting her hand on his thigh.

Kowalski snorted. "I'm not a Christmas tree."

Fraser coughed, his eyebrows hitched up. Gloria could see him wavering between loyalty to her and rescuing Kowalski. "What about me?" he said, apparently finding a compromise. "I wouldn't mind dressing up."

Gloria shot him a sweet smile. "Been there, done that."

His eyebrows inched higher.

"St. Fortunata's," Gloria reminded him. Sure, she'd never officially seen him in drag, but Ray's memories were an open book to her. She'd seen him.

Kowalski was looking at them like they were both freaks.

"It's okay," she told him, her nails digging into his thigh. "I like your manly charms." She leaned in and purred in his ear, "Very much."

He still looked uncertain, but Gloria had already won.

She released his thigh and stirred more sugar into her coffee. "Next Tuesday?"

Fraser nodded. "I look forward to it."

"I get a veto, right?" said Kowalski, which was basically agreement.

"Sure you do, sugar." Gloria gave Fraser a conspiratorial look. "I think you and I will have to go shopping."

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Kowalski asked Ray, "So where are we doing this?"

"Doing what?" Ray was distracted with the rush-hour traffic and the ache in his lower back from dancing in high heels over the weekend and then spending eight hours today staring at a computer screen at work.

"The Make Fun of Kowalski Freakshow tomorrow night," said Kowalski. "Is this going to be a public humiliation rite or just for Gloria and Fraser's benefit?"

Ray forgot about his back. He took the next exit, ignoring Kowalski's "Where are we going?" and pulled over as soon as he could. He unfastened his seatbelt so he could turn and see Kowalski properly. "This isn't about humiliating anyone."

Kowalski looked back at him. "It's not mean, I know that. It's just—" He stopped and pressed his lips together.

Ray waited, then when nothing more was forthcoming— "What?"

Kowalski's eyelashes were dark against his cheeks under the sodium streetlights, and then they flicked up and Ray was staring into his eyes.

"She thinks I'm a freak," Kowalski said simply. "You know, never did the scene, doesn't dress up, married for thirteen years. She thinks I'm all out of whack."

"You idiot," said Ray, startled. "She thinks you think she's a freak!"

"What?" Kowalski frowned. "Nah, she doesn't care what I think."

Ray shook his head. "I should confiscate your badge for that, dumbass."

"Huh." Kowalski fingered his bracelet thoughtfully. "So then what's with the dress-ups?"

"There's no grand conspiracy," Ray told him. "It's just for fun. I mean, dressing up is her—my—thing, you know?" Ray pulled back onto the road.

"But it's not just a game with you. I mean, that's pretty obvious."

Ray thought about the sequins and the boas and the ridiculous quantity of cosmetics he bought through Dee. "Not just a game, but you think I'd want to drag you into it too if it wasn't fun?"

"Pun intended?" Kowalski glanced across at him, seeming reassured.

Ray reviewed his last words and barked a laugh. "Not that time, no."

 

* * *

 

Gloria never dressed at the apartment. She went to the Club to get ready for her birthday party and, as arranged, Kowalski picked her up at eight and brought her home, because driving in heels was a bitch and the last thing Ray needed was to get in a car accident in a gold lamé dress.

Kowalski was quiet on the drive, distracted. Gloria turned on the radio, but after half a song, Kowalski turned it off again. "I, uh." He cleared his throat, and slowed to a stop at a red light. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a twist of tissue paper. "Happy birthday."

Gloria took it, thrown. "You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did. It's your birthday." Kowalski shot her a quick smile, and then the lights turned green and he accelerated. "It's okay if you don't like it. I wasn't sure."

"I'll like it." Gloria swallowed around the lump in her throat, and opened the twist of paper. "Oh."

It was a charm bracelet, with tiny silver high heels and a purse and a lipstick. It was perfect.

"It's weird, you and me," said Kowalski, and Gloria half wanted to interrupt him for fear of what he'd say, but she just stared at the charm bracelet and listened. "I mean, we didn't really choose each other, you know? Not like you and Fraser. It's more like you're stuck with me 'cause of Ray. And I'm never sure how much of you _is_ , uh, Ray. We all make out like you're a whole different person and—" He glanced at her. "—and maybe you are. Either way, I want you to know I'm okay with that."

"Yeah?" said Gloria faintly.

Kowalski nodded, his eyes back on the road. "It's still a mindfuck," he said matter-of-factly, "but I mean the three—or four—of us, all of us being together. It wouldn't be us if it wasn't some kind of circus. We are who we are. Fraser, Vecchio, me and you. You are who you are."

Gloria fumbled in her purse for a tissue and blotted her eyelashes before the gum loosened and they fell off. "Ray was never comfortable about his worlds overlapping, so I guess over time I just—" She gestured at her dress. "—became more me, you know?" She added, half to herself, "And I have a better time if I can forget about Ray for a while, anyway. He worries too damn much."

Kowalski smiled. "You got that right. So, what, you don't worry?"

Gloria wasn't adept at introspection or heart-to-hearts. The charm bracelet jingled in her hand, and before she could figure out what to say and how to say it, Kowalski pulled into the apartment parking lot. "Here goes nothing," he said.

"Trust me," she said, gathering her wits. "You might even enjoy yourself."

 

* * *

 

The apartment was clean and tidy and there was a cake with three unlit candles sitting in the middle of the dining table.

Gloria kissed Fraser's cheek. "Thanks, Benny."

"Happy birthday," he said, his smile so warm that if they'd been alone she would have abandoned all other plans in favor of him fucking her over the table. He looked ready to. But tonight there was an agenda and it was all about Kowalski. She draped her fake fur wrap over the back of a chair and took the glass of wine Fraser handed her. "Shall we?"

Fraser inclined his head in agreement and Kowalski straightened his shoulders gamely.

Dief came through on his way to the kitchen, and they all watched as he disappeared into the spare bedroom with a wave of his tail. That was the last they saw of him that evening.

"He doesn't like dress-ups," Fraser explained. "He had a bad experience with a tam o'shanter."

"Curtains open or shut?" Gloria asked Kowalski, and before he could answer, she kissed his cheek, conscious of the charm bracelet circling her wrist and hoping she could give him as good a gift.

"Whatever works," he said, but Fraser was already closing them, creating an intimate space, just the three of them.

"Okay." Gloria took her time placing a chair with its back to the table, and then sat herself down where she had a good view of both her men. She met Kowalski's eye and said, "Take off your clothes. You can't get dressed up if you're still dressed."

Kowalski only hesitated for a split second. Then he kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath and dropped them on the floor. He peeled off his socks, vertebrae making bumps along the curve of his spine, and stood up again to start on his jeans.

"Wait," said Gloria. "The jeans can stay." They were soft and worn, and though she'd been planning on coaxing him into something tighter, this wasn't about making Kowalski less Kowalski.

He straightened and looked at her, his hands on his hips, his lips twisting wryly. His ball-chain bracelet glinted against the knob of his wrist. He was faintly flushed, his jeans riding low, and Gloria clasped her hands together to keep from beckoning him closer so she could touch.

Fraser's attention was ensnared, too. He was eyeing Kowalski with such obvious desire that Gloria smiled. Fraser was unquestionably at her service—she could afford to share. But Kowalski was waiting.

"Benny," she said softly, not wanting to break the spell. "Where's the bag?"

There was a delay before Fraser looked at her, and when he did, he took a moment to focus. She opened her mouth to repeat the question, but Fraser pushed off from the wall and went around the table to produce the shopping bag. He set it on the table beside Gloria and she delved inside.

Shirt first. The silk knit was slippery in her fingers—storm gray or soft indigo, depending on the light. The cut deliberately chosen to be snug. Fraser had already removed the tags—Gloria should have expected that, given his penchant for proper preparation—and she tossed it to Kowalski, noting with satisfaction the way his fingers moved across the fabric, testing its texture.

He yanked it over his head, and Gloria suppressed a wince for the delicate garment, but Lord, it was worth it! It fit perfectly and Fraser had been right about the color. Usually Gloria didn't care for giving blowjobs—she'd rather get fucked or, sometimes, have a man on his knees in front of her, depending on the man. Aside from other considerations, blowjobs smudged her makeup.

Kowalski in that shirt was making her rethink her policy.

He smoothed a hand over his stomach, stretching the fabric and making his nipples stand out. Gloria swallowed hard, determined to finish what she'd started.

Next up were dull green cotton socks and Kowalski's old cowboy boots, the latter polished to a high gloss by her accomplice. Gloria handed them to Kowalski and he bent to put them on. When he stood up again, she smiled her approval.

So far, the whole business had been conducted in near silence—which was a miracle, given the three of them. Now Gloria spoke up. "Close your eyes."

Kowalski squinted at her for a moment, then gave a tiny shrug and obeyed. Apparently this was when he thought the glitter and feathers would come out, but Gloria had something quite different in store.

She carefully pulled back the wrapping and unfolded the leather jacket Fraser had helped Ray pick out. She took it over to Kowalski. "You can look now."

He opened his eyes cautiously, then blinked. "Hey, that's my—" He took the jacket and held it up. "Here lies the body of Dan Brown," he said.

"Who was lost at sea and never found," Fraser supplied from the sidelines.

"Yeah." Kowalski was sliding his arm into a sleeve. "This is perfect. How did you— Wait, dumb question. But—" He stopped and shook his head. "This was supposed to be your birthday."

"Oh, it is," said Gloria, standing back to assess the ensemble. Kowalski at his most desirable, glowing with pleasure at having his old jacket replaced with an identical one. "Freak," she said softly, the word slipping unconsciously from her lips, startling both of them. But it wasn't Ray speaking—it was Gloria. Gloria speaking Kowalski's language.

He caught her hand. "Thanks."

"There's one more thing," she told him, "and you might not like this part."

He raised his chin, his eyes trusting. "Sock it to me. I can take it."

She turned to the bag and pulled out the last purchase: a dark brown eyeliner pencil.

Kowalski snorted. "I should've guessed this was too good to be true."

"Oh hush," she said. "You'll look fabulous."

He grinned. "Hey, it's your party. Just—you know you're going to have to apply it, right?"

"I'm counting on it." Gloria took off her heels and stepped closer, aware of Fraser's eyes on them but most of all, aware of Kowalski, lean and vibrant and dressed to the nines for her. It was all for her. "Look up," she told him, "and don't blink."

He stared at the ceiling obediently, though the corner of his mouth twitched, and Gloria rested the edge of her hand lightly against his cheek—more in self-indulgence than because she needed to. She ran the smooth tip of the pencil close beneath the lashes of his left eye, dragging at the soft skin slightly but drawing a neat line nonetheless. Of course, Kowalski did blink, but she was quick enough the job was already done. She lined the other eye, just as quickly, then got him to close his eyes and did the upper lids. She was about to step back to include Fraser in the building awareness, but Kowalski hooked his finger through her charm bracelet and stopped her. "Is that it?" he murmured.

She met his gaze. "You're done."

"You like it?"

She didn't need to step back for another look. It was enough to see the marks beneath his eyes, marks she'd made, subtle talismans but they were enough to grant him entry to her world of glamour and artifice. Enough to bring him within reach. "Do you?"

He glanced down at himself, and then—of course—Fraser produced a mirror.

Gloria and Fraser had decided earlier not to do this in the bedroom. This wasn't a sex game—it was about belonging, though they hadn't said that in so many words. And they hadn't mentioned mirrors, but trust Fraser.

Kowalski studied himself, head tilted. "Yeah," he said, finally. He winked at Fraser. "How about you? What do you think?"

"I think I'd like very much to strip you out of those clothes," said Fraser, "even if it means undoing all Gloria's hard work."

Kowalski glinted at him wickedly, his finger still hooked through Gloria's bracelet. "Kinda think I'm already spoken for this evening."

Fraser licked his lower lip. "I'd be more than happy to watch."

Gloria knew he meant it, but said all the same, "Just say the word if you change your mind, okay? This is your party too." She turned back to Kowalski and hooked her finger through his bracelet, mirroring his gesture and using it to draw his hand to her hip. "Want to dance?"

He bent his head forward confidentially. "Yeah."

But his breath was hot on her lips and he was gripping her hip through her dress, and he looked so goddamned fine. More to the point, he was looking at her like that sentiment was mutual.

Her lips parted of their own accord, just as Kowalski kissed her. It was a sweet kiss, warm but not presumptuous, and after a few seconds Gloria felt a flash of frustration. Kowalski was allowed to presume. She wanted him to!

She let go of his bracelet and skimmed her hands under his jacket, over the soft silk shirt and up to slide the leather from his shoulders. At the same time, she deepened the kiss, pushing him. Come on, come on. She was still barefoot and he was wearing his boots, so he had a slight height advantage, and Gloria wanted him to make full use of it and take charge. "Please," she murmured against his mouth. "Fuck me."

He paused and she could almost hear his brain spinning, and then something gave way and he was on her, hands roaming greedily, his mouth taking hers. He backed her against the doorway and ground into her, and they were both too busy and breathless to speak, but from behind Kowalski, Gloria heard Fraser groan, low and desperate sounding, and she raised her head and beckoned him to join in.

She never knew if he saw or accepted the gesture. Kowalski smoothed over her ass, his fingers hot through the thin material, and a few seconds later he'd found his way under her skirt and was back, touching her through her underwear.

Gloria flushed all over, too turned on to be self-conscious. She hitched her leg up and Kowalski caught it and leaned in hard, his kisses getting deeper. "Christ, you—you're—"

He broke the kiss and looked at her, and she had no idea what he saw on her face, but for the first time she didn't doubt who he was seeing. His reddened lips curved and the possessive look in his eyes thrilled her, and when he kissed her again, teasing her swollen lips and setting a more luxurious pace but still with obvious intent, it was everything she'd dreamed.

Kowalski turned her against the wall and stripped down her tight lace panties, and her skirt tickled the backs of her legs until he hitched it up again. Gloria inhaled sharply in anticipation, glad she'd chosen not to wear a gaff.

There was a click and then his fingers were against her, in her, cool and slick, and Gloria didn't have time to wonder where the lube had come from before Kowalski was pushing into her.

She groaned and Kowalski wrapped one arm around her waist, the other cupping her breast. "You like that? You want it?"

"More," she told him. "Harder. Put your back into it." She shifted to accommodate him as he deepened his thrusts, fucking her roughly. This wasn't what she had or wanted with Benny, but it was them, her and Kowalski, and it was glorious. She choked out a laugh at the pun, and pushed back to meet Kowalski's driving rhythm.

Fraser said something, but his voice was lost in the harsh sound of her and Kowalski's breathing, and Kowalski's movements changed, shorter thrusts, more up and down, less back and forward. Gloria braced her forearms against the doorframe, struggling to stay upright, and then leaned her forehead against the cool painted wood, and at last Kowalski reached around and grasped her dick.

She came almost immediately, loud and throaty and not at all ladylike.

Kowalski nuzzled her hair aside and closed his teeth on her earlobe, but his mouth fell away again as he sped up even more, losing all semblance of control until his arms turned to steel bands and he pulsed inside her.

"Jesus," he said breathlessly into the back of her neck, resting against her for a moment before pulling out. She turned and kissed him hard, both of them sweaty and disheveled. Gloria was muzzily aware that Kowalski's new silk shirt was in a terrible state, but he was oblivious to their disarray, and she was mostly too sated and pleased with him to care.

 

 

 **Part III: Boys will be Boys (at least some of the time)**

The next morning, Ray woke practically nose to nose with Vecchio, who was still asleep, wig long gone but face bearing traces of makeup—rouge on her cheekbone, purple eye shadow, and a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. It looked weird this close up, on Vecchio's forty-year-old-guy skin, with his sparse short eyelashes.

It didn't matter. And Ray didn't know if it would be Vecchio or Gloria who'd wake up in their bed, between him and Fraser, but that didn't matter either. Last night had changed things. It felt like, after all this time, he'd got to meet the real Gloria—not the one who performed on a stage or mocked him in a diner, with all the push-pull of arm's length teasing, where Ray didn't know if she was making fun of him, if she resented him because she wanted Fraser all to herself or if she didn't think Ray was queer enough. Ray hadn't known if that Gloria even liked him. But last night she'd let him see past that, and underneath she was just as warm and big-hearted and needy as Vecchio.

And sexy. She wasn't pretty, but she'd turned Ray on like crazy, and that was new too, how they'd fucked against the wall, all desperate gasps and groans, and expensive perfume. Ray gently touched her face, on the pillow beside him. She grumbled and rolled over, turning her back to him. Ray grinned to himself and slid out of bed.

Fraser found him in the dining room ten minutes later, drinking coffee, eating birthday cake and reading yesterday's paper.

"She still asleep?" Ray asked.

Fraser's smile widened. "Yes," he said, "she is." He pulled Ray up and into his arms, ignoring the piece of cake in Ray's hand, and hugged him tight. "Thank you," he murmured in Ray's ear, and Ray felt like a jerk for about a second and a half, for not having loved Gloria sooner, not having tried harder, but then Fraser kissed him, and Ray stopped feeling guilty and relaxed into Fraser's arms. Some things just took time.

He pulled back and fed Fraser the mouthful of cake, and Fraser swallowed it and licked Ray's fingers clean.

"You still have eyeliner—" Fraser touched Ray's cheek. "It's rather distracting." He kissed the corner of Ray's eye.

Ray grinned. "You like that, huh?"

Fraser's expression was answer enough.

Ray slid his hands down to Fraser's ass. "Maybe you want to come back to bed with me and help me wake Gloria up," he suggested, and laughed out loud when Fraser instantly shepherded him to the doorway. "And then later you can tell me all about St. Fortunata's."

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "That was for a case," he said, like that made the idea of getting off on it immoral.

Ray shoved him into the bedroom. "So?" he said. "You never know, maybe I'm developing a thing. I'm pretty sure you want to encourage that, Fraser."

"I'm pretty sure I do," said a sleepy voice from the bed, and Ray still didn't know who it was, but it didn't matter. Either way, they belonged there, with him and Fraser. Either way.


End file.
